Factory Story – Part 3

Nate walked back to his office, set the pack­age down on his desk and exam­ined the card. Turn­ing the small cheap busi­ness card over in his fin­gers, exam­in­ing the hand writ­ten phone num­ber.

His mind was fix­at­ed with the ten dig­its. Before he could stop him­self images of ‘hap­pi­ly ever after’ flood­ed his imag­i­na­tion. Bri­an and him buy­ing a small apart­ment in Bronte, grow­ing old togeth­er and spend­ing evening hav­ing din­ner par­ties and enter­tain­ing the friends that a cou­ple would have. Feel­ings of a per­fect first date, where every sen­tence Bri­an says is wry and clever and insight­ful, and Nate hav­ing the per­fect response.

He turned the card over again.

Visions of the worst date of all time flashed through his mind equal­ly unbid­den. What if he made a fool of him­self, what if Bri­an was a moron. What if his par­ents didn’t like him. What if they spit up in ten years time and couldn’t decid­ed who should keep the dog.

He turned the card over again.

He looked at the sim­ple phone num­ber. The one though that rang true in his head was:

“Your 29. And this is the first time that any­one has ever giv­en you their num­ber.”

There was a knock on his door and Nate looked up. Scar­let was stand­ing in his door­way.

“So?”

Nate frowned. “So what?”

Scar­let smiled. “So, its been 20 min­utes.”

Nate blinked and glanced at his watch.

“Are you going to ring him or not?”

Nate looked at the card.

“What if your wrong, what if he wasn’t hit­ting on me?”

Scar­let shrugged. “What if I’m not?” She smiled and then reached over and pulled the door closed, leav­ing Nate in his small office alone, shirt­less, and resolved to make the call.

He picked up the phone and punched in 4 dig­its, got the 5th dig­it wrong and slammed the phone down ner­vous­ly.

He tried again, this time mak­ing it all the way to the end and wait­ing for the phone to answer.

“Er, hi, is that Bri­an?”

Nate lis­tened close­ly, his eye­brows fur­row with the stress.

“It’s Nate here, the, um, shirt­less guy.”

He paused and his pos­ture tens­ing a lit­tle.

“Um, no, I haven’t opened it yet. Um, I was won­der­ing-” he stopped, inter­rupt­ed.

“Yeah, cof­fee.” He nod­ded to him­self.

“New­town?” He nod­ded again.

“Yeah I know the place. What-” inter­rupt­ed again.

“Okay. See you then.”

He hung up the phone and sighed and slumped into his chair.

That had actu­al­ly gone a lot bet­ter than expect­ed. He glanced at his still damp shirt. It was actu­al­ly his best shirt and he had noth­ing clean at home to wear. More prob­lems. Was it overkill to buy a new shirt for a date?

Nate sat back in his chair and notices his still untouched sand­wich. Final­ly, time for lunch.


Sto­ry con­tin­ues in part 4.

Part of my cre­ative writ­ing class. Week­ly Assign­ment 4.